


How to sign your death warrant

by mikhailosbitch



Series: Just survive [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Denial, F/M, Implied Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-11 22:14:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10475577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikhailosbitch/pseuds/mikhailosbitch
Summary: Basically my imagination of how Mickey finally realized that he's gay





	

It's good. It is. In fact it's fucking amazing. Fuck, it's good.

At least that's what it's supposed to be.

Maybe, if Mickey just tells himself that he's having the time of his life right now it will be true. Because he can do this. He can enjoy this.

 

Only that he can't.

 

He's fucking Sally from his math class in her bed because her mum isn't home, surrounded by pink walls covered in posters from One Direction.

Mickey wants to throw up.

Wants this to end because Sally is making these weird high-pitched noises and telling him to be careful, he really is though and he's pretty sure at least one of them is having fun right now if the expression on Sally's face is anything to go by.

It's the only thing that keeps him from pulling out and taking off, out of this house and this fucking ass situation, because he doesn't want to disappoint her.

 

It's a weak excuse. 

Because truth is he doesn't want to disappoint himself. Or his dad.

 

So yeah, this is good. He doesn't mind Sally's tits between them, kinda blocking him from her body, because tits are great. According to his brothers and his father and the million boyfriends Mandy drags into her room.

Big tits are sexy and Sally's are big and Mickey finds her fucking sexy.

And not only that but also her long blond hair, her face with too much make up on it and her feminine body. She's pretty and he, Mickey Milkovich, is turned on. 

Has to be.

 

Her flowery smell from the cheap perfume she's wearing and her body are doing it for him.

Because if they don't…

No. He's not going down that road.

 

He's not gonna wish it was broad strong hands grabbing his sides instead of long fake nails digging into his skin.

He doesn't want to be pressed against a flat chest without boobs in the way.

And he for sure doesn't want to be the one feeling a dick in his body instead of sticking his own into pussy.

 

He doesn't want to hear low deep sighs and stiffled groans instead of squeaky moans.

He knows he's being unfair. Sally's voice is pretty okay. It just doesn't make him feel better right now.

 

Shit.

 

Fuck, he doesn't crave a rougher touch, doesn't long for musky smell and kisses without lipstick.

 

Because you can't miss what you never felt, right?

 

If he's interpreting her quicker breathing right Sally is close. So he has to hurry up because a teenage boy not coming during sex is fucking embarrassing and causes questions. Questions he cannot afford.

 

Mickey concentrates. He has done this before. Thrown his load into girls. He's taking Sally's virginity right now but the first time he had fucked a girl, fucked anyone, had been when he was twelve. He's had plenty of practice in one year.

 

He still remembers this disgusting hooker his dad had ordered as his birthday present. To make him a man. She was a crack whore, that's for sure, stinking of sweat and vomit and something Mickey doesn't want to know about.

He didn't know exactly what was wrong back then when he came out of his room and had to lie to his brothers about how great it was while his dad paid the prostitute. Not cash.

 

He didn’t know what was wrong, he doesn't know what is wrong because there IS NOTHING wrong.

There's nothing wrong with him.

 

He doesn't look at the lean abs of the football players when they all change after gym class.

Or wonders what it would feel like to touch one of them. To be touched by one of them.

 

And if he gets off while thinking about strong jaw lines and muscular arms holding him that's just a coincidence. It is. It has to be.

 

"Jesus, Mickey" Sally whispers; "That was amazing."

"Yeah" he croaks out.

It's all he can manage.

 

Sally presses her lips against his and smears lipstick everywhere.

They kiss a couple minutes before Mickey backs off. He needs to get out of here.

He's not going to cry in front of a girl, fuck he's not going to cry at all.

Not like a fucking girl.

A bitch.

 

A fag.

 

"Gotta go. See ya" he mumbles, quickly putting on his clothes laying on the floor. Sally doesn't stop him. She knows it would be fuck and leave and he's glad that she sticks with that agreement. It's not like anyone would have the courage to piss him off though, but still.

"Good night" she calls after him as he makes his way downstairs and out of the house.

 

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

 

 

He presses his palms against his eyes, trying to stop the tears from coming out.

 

Because after one year of fucking girl after girl, desperately trying to get what the fuck was so great about pussy, his mind forced him to think about the possibility that maybe there was no point in denying it anymore.

 

 

Instead of going home he jogs to the abandoned buildings a few blocks over. It's save there.

At least saver than having drunk Terry looming over him, searching for a reason to beat the shit out of him and then eventually deciding he doesn't need one.

Mandy is at her current boyfriend's and Iggy and the other shitheads can take care of themselves so he can stay away a little longer.

 

 

The bottle of Jack he digs out of the few belongings he has storaged in a box behind an old couch is only half full but it'll have to do the job.

Mickey grabs the old ratty blanket and moves up onto the roof, crawling under the thin fabric, opening the bottle and lighting a cigarette from the pack in his back pocket. The smoke is rough against the inside of his throat. 

Mickey inhales another drag, holding it in his lungs. It's calming. Distracting him from the tears streaming down his face, and the sobs choking him.

 

Burning liquid runs through his mouth setting it on fire but Mickey doesn’t cough. 

He's crying.

He is a fag. 

But he isn't weak.

**Author's Note:**

> Another one shot that kept running through my mind so I had to write it down.  
> I would love to know what you think of it.


End file.
